


the one where Hallsy is sick

by cominginside



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Edmonton Oilers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-19
Updated: 2011-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cominginside/pseuds/cominginside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taylor's sick; Jordan's learned well from his mom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one where Hallsy is sick

**Author's Note:**

> Taylor had to sit out of the game against the Calgary Flames last night because he was sick, and B and I decided this required some sort of fluffy fic. This is that fic. (And no, I really couldn't come up with a better title.)

Jordan kind of expects Taylor to be completely obnoxious when he's sick, even though he knows he's not. He just seems like he should be, really. Yeah, he gets fidgety and at one point tries to convince Jordan that he's good to go for the game, even though he's barely able to stand upright without wobbling, but mostly he's a good patient, willing to stay put and sleep and keep hydrated. That's what'll lead to getting back to playing, after all.

It's easy to forget, sometimes, that Taylor's capable of maturity if it relates to hockey. He's so young in so many ways--he can't cook, still, and the last time he'd tried to do laundry he'd put in too much detergent and Jordan had been stuck cleaning up a bubbly mess. When it comes to hockey, though, all of that burns away and Taylor goes from being kind of a goof to being serious and unstoppable.

Well, unstoppable as long as he isn't throwing up.

So much of their game day routine revolves around each other that Jordan doesn't know what to do with Hallsy bed-ridden. He makes too much food for lunch and has to dig out tupperware for the extras. He checks his bag and Hallsy's bag and nearly yells at Taylor for not having his suit ready before he remembers that Taylor won't be wearing it. Even his pre-game nap doesn't go as planned; it takes him forever to fall asleep because he keeps worrying that something's going to happen while he's napping or--worse--at the game.

Taylor's still running a fever when Jordan checks in on him after waking up. He sighs and fixes Taylor's blankets, then heads to the kitchen to make soup (his mom's recipe) and pour another glass of juice. Taylor groans when Jordan helps him to sit up, closing his eyes for a minute and breathing carefully.

"You okay?" Jordan asks, wondering if he should be holding up the bucket from next to the bed.

Taylor nods weakly. "Just dizzy," he says.

"I made soup," Jordan tells him. "Chicken noodle. Think you can manage?"

"I guess we'll find out," Taylor says. Jordan hands him the bowl--warm, not hot--and perches on the side of the bed as Taylor takes a few tentative spoonfuls. They both wait a few minutes, but there's no adverse reaction, so Taylor finishes off the soup in slow, careful sips. Jordan takes the bowl when he's done and brings it back to the kitchen, then ducks into the bathroom to dampen a washcloth. When he makes it back to Taylor's room, Taylor's lying down again, but his eyes are open and watching Jordan.

"I gotta head out," Jordan says, sitting down again and looking down at Taylor. "There's juice and a couple of Tylenol on your bedside table, and your phone's on the other side of them. Don't knock the juice into it."

Taylor rolls his eyes but nods.

"Also you look like you just finished double over time, so I'm going to wash your face," Jordan says, holding up the washcloth. "Close your eyes."

"Yes, mom," Taylor says. It's Jordan's turn to roll his eyes at that, but he's careful as he wipes the sweat off Taylor's face. This close, he can see that Taylor's too pale, flushed cheeks aside, and the washcloth is warm by the time Jordan finishes. He hates seeing Taylor like this. Taylor should be full of energy, bouncing around the apartment and getting them excited for the game.

Impetuously, Jordan leans down and kisses Taylor on the forehead. Taylor's skin burns against his lips, but Taylor does huff a little laugh, and he's smiling when Jordan pulls back and looks at him.

"You're going to make a great mom someday," Taylor tells him with something that isn't even remotely close to a straight face.

Jordan swats him lightly with the washcloth. "Shut up and go back to sleep, invalid."

Taylor nods and closes his eyes, wriggling a little into his blankets. Jordan watches him for a minute before standing up and leaving the room. He pauses in the doorway, looking back to make sure that he hasn't forgotten anything.

"Bye," Taylor says, voice barely carrying across the room.

"Bye," Jordan says. "Get some sleep. Call me if you need me. I'll be home right after the game."

"Kick their asses," Taylor says, but his voice is fading into a yawn by the end of it.

"I'll try," Jordan says. He watches as Taylor's breathing evens out, then pulls the door half-shut and walks away.


End file.
